


From Someone's Father, If Not Mine

by AntagonizedPenguin



Category: Original Work, The Soul Snatchers' Saga
Genre: Abusive Parents, Dysphoria, Gen, Illusion magic that doesn't help with dysphoria, Public bathing while wearing illusion magic that doesn't help with dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 16:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: "Maradalel had only ever received gifts for the son Danda—el had wanted, the one who didn’t exist. "Some fanfiction for Nikkie2571'sThe Soul Snatchers' Saga, with a focus on a sad youth who knows that they are not the son their father wants, and their attempts to fake it.





	From Someone's Father, If Not Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nikkie2571](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkie2571/gifts).

> There are a lot of great characters in Nikkie2571's stories, but Maradalel and their sad everything is the one who really stands out for me. This is set a little bit before the story it's based on and is based on a conversation that I had with Nikkie that basically boiled down to him telling me this wouldn't happen, haha. The culture that he's created for this story is so detailed and well planned that I've definitely gotten a few things wrong, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

“You summoned me, father?”

Danda—el never asked for his son or called for him or requested him, he always summoned him. Maradalel didn’t take it personally. He summoned everyone. And they came when they were summoned.

Danda—el nodded, waving Maradalel to stop lurking in the doorway of his study and come inside. “Come.” 

Maradalel was coming, and he stopped just in front of his father’s desk, hoping he hadn’t failed Danda—el in some way. Again. His mind raced as he tried to think of something (aside from existing) that he’d done that might have disappointed his father, but he came up with nothing. His practice had been going well, he was doing fine in his studies, he hadn’t embarrassed himself in public lately, he…

Orange patterned across Maradalel’s skin while he tried to think, then tried to stop thinking, about what he’d failed at today. His father would tell him, he was sure. 

Instead, though, his father held something out. “Here you go, son,” Danda—el said, inflecting the last word heavily enough to make it a threat. “A present.” 

“A present? ...Thank you, father.” Maradalel took the proffered amulet, turning it over in his hands, which blossomed with chartreuse that radiated upwards. It resonated with magic. “What is it?” There was still orange on him, though. Danda—el never gave gifts to Maradalel. Even on gift-giving occasions, Maradalel had only ever received gifts for the son Danda—el had wanted, the one who didn’t exist. 

"A spell that will make you look normal.”

The chartreuse spread. “Normal?” 

Danda—el inclined his head, a familiar red on his neck. “Yes. Like a proper boy, finally.” 

Ah, Maradalel understood now. A spell to give him a dick. “How?” he asked, rather than saying that out loud. Maradalel was twelve years old and did not want to say the word ‘dick’ to his father. Even if his father was giving him one. 

“An illusion,” Danda—el explained, waving a hand. “It’s not an Andatamel magic. I went to a great deal of trouble to procure it for you, son.” 

No, he hadn’t. He’d gone to a great deal of trouble to procure it for the son he’d never had. Maradalel nodded, displaying gratitude. “Thank you, father.” 

And he put the amulet around his neck. Nothing changed. “Do I…look any different?” 

“Not with your clothes on,” Danda—el said, dismissing Maradalel with his tone.

Of course. Maradalel resisted the urge to look between his legs anyway, retreating from the room. “Thank you, father,” he said.

He quickly made his way to his own room, shutting the door behind him, back against it. He waited a moment for the shaking to pass, which was normal after he’d spoken with his father. Then, hesitant, Maradalel made his way to the mirror in the back corner of the room. 

He looked the same, no matter how much he might imagine that he didn’t. But with hesitant, oranging hands, Maradalel slowly undressed. His outer clothes were fine, but by the time he got to his bindings and his underclothes, Maradalel had to close his eyes. He didn’t know how long he stood there naked but for the amulet in front of his mirror with his eyes closed, shaking. 

When he finally opened them, he saw in the mirror a boy, skin aflame with azure and orange. His chest was flat, and between his legs was a dick, just like he’d seen in diagrams and once or twice on another boy in situations he’d tried his best to escape. It hung there, moving back and forth and little with him. It was longer than he’d thought it might be. 

Swallowing, Maradalel reached down to touch it, but of course there was nothing there and his hand passed through. He withdrew as if it had bitten him, taking a step back. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him. 

Maradalel erupted suddenly in green and blue, dancing across his skin like poison. The colours distorted when they moved between his legs, over his chest, the illusion not able to keep up with Andatamel physiology. It wasn’t _him._

He fled the mirror, hiding under his blankets for the rest of the afternoon, trying not to cry.

\---

When Danda—el said ‘come’ Maradalel went, that was just how it worked. He didn’t question his father or ask where they were going or try to resist, because he was Maradalel’s father and Maradalel couldn’t do that to him. 

His curiosity about where they were going grew as the carriage ride grew longer, though in reality it was only five minutes since they’d left. It was the same intolerable silence that Maradalel had spent his life learning to tolerate, though, so he said nothing. And then they stopped, and their attendant opened the door. Maradalel got out first to wait for his father, and started when he saw where they were. “F-father…”

“Something wrong, son?” Danda—el asked. Or perhaps ordered. He began walking inside. 

“This…” Maradalel swallowed. “It’s the middle of the day.” He only ever came to the baths at night. 

“Yes,” Danda—el agreed, beckoning Maradalel to follow him with his tone rather than his hand. “You’ve your gift on. And it’s been commented on that my son is too shy to attend the baths with everyone else.” 

_It’s been commented on_ was the worst sentence Maradalel knew. It meant that he’d done something. That somebody had noticed he was different. Weird. Wrong. And worse, that they’d mentioned it to his father. 

Orange all over, Maradalel looked at his feet. “I understand, father.” 

That was all either of them needed to say so they didn’t say anything else, proceeding into the baths, into the undressing room, where Maradalel tried not to show obvious hesitation at undressing. Nobody was looking at him, he told himself. Except for his father. Danda—el was always watching. 

Maradalel hadn’t looked at himself with the amulet on since that first day and he didn’t do so now, though he did glance a few times at his father, who looked like a man should look, and he looked like it fit him. Was that how Maradalel looked to others? Probably not. 

“Don’t stare, it’s rude.” 

Maradalel jumped, looked away. “I’m sorry.” 

Danda—el didn’t respond to that, just waved for Maradalel to follow him into the bath. 

Maradalel hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since he’d been old enough to dress himself, but now he had to walk into a room full of people and honestly the fact that he did it at all, even if he was orange everywhere, was a miracle as far as he was concerned. 

Nobody else thought of it that way, because they were all normal people who did this every day, so all the accolades Maradalal received for his feat were in his head. But that was okay, because it made him feel a little better, and helped him be a little less embarrassed. 

Mercifully, Maradalel’s father wasn’t interested in spending time with him, so he headed off as soon as they were in the baths to join some friends of his whom Maradalel vaguely recognized from their last social function. Maradalel cast around, and found for himself a spot where he could bathe alone, hoping as he sank into the water that it would stay that way. He’d just wash, stay for enough time that people could see him here, then leave. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was nice in some ways to be able to do this here in the day, rather than late at night when it was mostly empty. At night if someone came in Maradalel had to hide. But here, he could just wash like this, like a normal person, not having to worry. For the first time he was grateful for the amulet’s metallic weight on his chest. 

But nothing good lasted. “Look who it is!” A hand fell on his shoulder at the same time as a boy’s voice fell on his ears and Maradalel moved away from the touch in a movement that was more akin to a jump than a slide. “We were just saying the other day that we never see you here.” 

“G-good day, Kalana—el,” he said, looking over at his friend, who was sitting on Maradalel’s other side. “And to you, Vidara—el.” Neither of them was his friend, but Maradalel saw them frequently on the training fields. He beat them frequently on the training fields. Kalana—el was a very tall boy with a big gouge in one of his antlers, and Vidara—el was funny-looking and only got moreso as he got older. Their fathers both worked under Maradalel’s father. Both of them were yellow, purple. Normal colours to be. 

And they were both unabashedly naked, which was a great deal more naked than Maradalel had ever needed to see either of them. He kept his eyes on their heads, wishing the orange that had started to fade hadn’t suddenly splotched its way back into his life. 

“No need to be so formal, it’s just a bath,” Vidara—el said, nudging Maradalel with his shoulder. His bare shoulder, because he was naked. “So why haven’t we ever seen you here before? Kalana—el thought it was because you were a eunuch.”

Kalana—el made a rude gesture, a bloom of red on his arm. “Vidara—el thought you were a girl in disguise.” 

“I’m not!” Maradalel squeaked, fully, painfully aware that they were now looking between his legs under the water, at he proof they needed, and that Maradalel, and Danda—el, needed them to have. He wasn’t really naked, Maradalel told himself. The illusion was kind of like clothes. “I’m just usually so busy that I don’t have time to come in the day, that’s all!” The lie came so easily. 

“If you say so,” Vidara—el snorted, nudging again. He’d gone a little orange. And magenta, just a little, across his shoulders. He was still looking down. Maradalel chanced a glance down as well. 

“I think he was actually hoping you were a girl,” Kalana—el said. “He’s probably disappointed.” 

“I am not, shut up!” That streak of magenta got a little wider, though. 

That turned into a splashing fight and Maradalel calmed down a little, especially after a nearby adult glared at them to stop being so disruptive. Then they just washed like normal, talking about nothing really. 

Until Kalana—el looked down again. “You know, I really thought I’d beat you at least once,” he sighed, shaking his head. 

“What’s that?” Maradalel asked. He didn’t follow. 

“I’m taller than you. I hoped I’d be bigger. But I guess you have to win at everything. Least I’m still bigger upstairs,” he said, running a finger down the gouge in his antler. 

“Oh.” Maradalel went orange again, looking down at his illusion, then at the other boys despite himself. His was hanging there between his legs, the illusion acting like it ought to. The other two boys’ dicks, which yes were smaller than Maradalel’s, which looked more natural on both of them, were floating a little, buoyant in the water. Oh no, it was obvious that his was wrong, that it was different, that it wasn’t real, that it was…

“Oh, so embarrassing,” Vidara—el teased, as Maradalel’s orange started to burst red. “This is really why you come here at night, right? So you don’t knock anyone out with that club of yours?”

He reached down as if to grab Maradalel and Maradalel burst out of the water, cyan streaking him all over. “D-don’t!” 

“What’s the matter, it’s just a joke,” Vidara—el told him, looking funny. They were both looking at him funny. Maradalel’s colours were flying and it was going to be obvious when it was distorted around the illusion and they were going to find out and Maradalel scrambled to his feet. 

“I’m…” He couldn’t, couldn’t. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

And Maradalel ran off, still wet, struggling not to let tears fall. He got dressed at record speed, and ran out of the bathhouse into their carriage, where he buried his face in his hands and started to bawl, sucking in huge gasps of air because he wanted to breathe. He got the hiccups, then tried to control them, and by the time he’d gotten them to go away Maradalel wasn’t crying anymore, at least. 

He took the amulet off, dropped it into his lap with trembling, green hands. Pulled back the front of his pants, just to make sure. Then wiped his face, tried to compose himself. His father was going to be so disappointed. 

It was a long time before Danda—el joined him in the carriage, sitting opposite Maradalel without a word. They started moving. Silent. 

The carriage stopped in front of their house. Neither of them moved for a moment. Danda—el then held out his hand, the gesture saying everything he wasn’t. _That was a gift for my son, not for you._

Maradalel put the amulet in his father’s hand and got out, hurrying into the house so he could hide in his bedroom the rest of the day, and wishing he didn’t feel so much better in his failure.


End file.
